


Metamorphosis

by Leftinant



Category: Compendium - Fandom, Original Work
Genre: 1920s, Blood, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Character Study, Dubious Science, Eldritch, Eldritch Transformation, Friendship, Gore, Horror, Medical, Misunderstandings, Non-Sexual, Original Character(s), Plant Gore, Showers, Transformation, apotheosis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:49:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27188908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leftinant/pseuds/Leftinant
Summary: Vines have been overtaking the city of Chicago with no small bit of help from one of the most powerful gangs in town. One of the scientists who helped determine the proper ritual's for their leader's transformation prepares himself and one of the local runners who befriended him for the inevitable apotheosis. It goes about as expected when ingesting unknown eldritch substances and spreading them all over your skin.
Kudos: 4





	Metamorphosis

"What's going on? I can hardly get three words out of you at a time" she allowed herself to be shooed towards one of the tables set throughout the room, pulling herself onto it after further urging, but her determination remained "Doctor." she demanded.  
  
"A change" he muttered, so quiet that she barely caught the words. His fingers rubbed against one another in triplicate sets, only pausing their erratic twitching to grab various implements from around the room and set them next to her. She heard him mutter those words several more times until she wasn't sure if it was supposed to be in answer to her or if he was simply talking to himself "A change to what?" she pressed a hand to his shoulder as he passed by her in a bid to get his attention. His head turned, just for a moment, and she met the hollow gaze of his mask. He moved away again, the rough material of his coat slipping through her fingers. She'd never seen him in a mood like this before. Not for more than maybe two hours. And he _always_ took the time to answer her.  
  
She watched as he moved to the far wall where what she could only describe as a distillery was set up. A rack of teacups was set next to it and he pulled two down, setting the first beneath a tap attached to the machine. She leaned to the side, trying to see what he was doing. Pouring something into the cups obviously, but- He set the pair on a nearby burner, turning the flames to a low heat before returning to the table and running his hands over the plethora of supplies he'd set there "Lawrence" she said quietly. He looked at her again, and she raised her brow.  
  


"Change... Need to prepare for it" That was slightly more encouraging, but still not a clear answer. As soon as she'd seen him this morning he'd done nothing but drag her around and she wanted to know why.

"What change?" she asked, matching his tone.

  
He stared off and she followed his gaze to the neighboring greenhouse "Vines" his voice was hoarse. The vines throughout the city? He spoke of them often, and when they went out together it was usually to the edge of the city where the things grew. She knew he was growing them in his greenhouse as well. For what purposes she had no idea. Medicinal, probably. He cautiously plucked at her coat and she sighed, pulling it off "Y'know, I only have so much patience with the distracted scientist thing, right?" He took her coat as she handed it to him, quickly folding it and setting it aside. She leaned out of his way as he began buzzing around again, trying to catch his eye as he flitted about the table "I can't help you _unless you help me"_  
  
His grip tightened on a vial which he had begun examining with great particularity "A great change." he repeated "The vines are coming, and we need to welcome them with an open mind and spirit." he removed his gloves one at a time, switching the vial between them and then pouring a small amount on his index finger. The doctor reached for her face and she sat with remarkable patience as he smeared whatever was in the vial from the center of her forehead down to the bridge of her nose. It didn't feel like much. Just cold and thick like syrup or glue.  
  
He continued in this manner, first making matching swoops following the line of her brows, drawing more and more intricate branches from those original three strokes. Making some sort of branching fractal. Two simple lines following the curve of her cheeks. A thick path from the tip of her nose down her chin. She had no idea what he was doing, but she did know that she trusted him, whatever it was, so she was willing to bear with this strange experiment.  
  
"Please remove your shirt. We must mark the rest of your torso." The doctor paused at this point, hurrying off to fetch the glasses which he had left to warm "Why don't you tell me more about what you're doing, huh doc? Inform your subject a little bit" He perked at that as he returned to her side, pressing one of the cups into her hands. Nothing to bring him out of his shell like talking about his work, she supposed. She set aside for the moment, unbuttoning her blouse and setting it on the table alongside her jacket.  
  
"We have been working for months. Studying. Experimenting. Failing. Triumphing." he started, pushing up his mask so that he could take a short sip from his glass. His voice was tinted with excitement. That meant he was coming around "The vines - they are the gateway to a great and powerful society, the creation of a new species" he picked up her cup, as if just noticing that she didn't have it in her hands, pushing it towards her "Drink, drink," he urged, and she reluctantly did so. The green liquid was almost unbearably sweet, but with an edge of bitterness. It went down smoothly enough, but she suspected that were it cooled it would be more like a gel than anything that could be properly drank. Something she extrapolated from having to swallow several times just to get all of the stuff out of her mouth.  
  


"So something in the vines... Makes people stronger? Smarter?" she asked, not fully understanding.

  
"Half correct," he lapsed into silence, thinking "We have no data to confirm that they affect one's natural ability in any way. However, they will be the foundation. To be marked by them is to be marked by a divine governance beyond our understanding" she frowned "Yeah, well I guess that must be right, because I'm not following you, doc"  
  
He waved her query away with a sigh "It is difficult to explain without one having partaken in the research. It will take us into a new era. I promise" he tipped his head back, finishing the rest of his cup. He took up the vial again, though only after pressing her to finish her own drink, which she did with a grimace at the taste "We must finish several of those" he apologized, noting her reaction. And with that he set back to it, picking up the line of green gel where it was beginning to dry on her chin and bringing the trail down to her navel. She moved aside her brassiere as needed, but ultimately gave up and just took it off as he repeatedly went through the area.  
  
As it turned out he was doing very similar work to what he had done to her face, tracing long symmetrical branches from which smaller ones sprouted. This time she could see that he was, in fact, making a very stilted tree. That's what it looked like to her, anyway. She sat still as he traced branches down her arms, looping to her back, under her ribs. Her legs, it seemed, did not require the same treatment.  
  
After he'd finished with her he made them another batch of cloying tea, or whatever the stuff was, after which he procured several vials and handed them to her, asking her to put the same markings on him. She was no artist, but as he revealed more and more of his marred skin to her she resolved to do her best. She had seen his face before, but never had the chance to see just how far the burns went. Down the length of his torso was her answer.  
  
She mimicked the same paths he had drawn on her and, after he noted that she needn't replicate anything besides the broadest strokes, amused herself by drawing orderly circles to fill the space between lines. It was much easier than trying to keep a bunch of tiny branches from intersecting over the twisted knots in his skin anyway.  
  
The liquid dried clear and after she'd finished she could hardly tell that she'd done anything at all. On her own skin there was only a faint greenish trail, as if a slug had made its way across her skin. The liquid dried stiff and she could tell that it cracked whenever she moved.  
  
There was another cup of vileness, and that was it. The doctor went over both of their vitals and, seeming satisfied, shooed her off to the empty bay and told her to rest. The only problem was that she didn't feel tired at all. However, she took a seat on one of the padded tables and, after some prodding managed to persuade Lawrence to go fetch her a book or something. He disappeared and she laid down with a sigh, pilfering several of the meager pillows from one of the counters and taking a blanket while she was at it.  
  
  
  


**[Some Time Later]**

  
  
  
The blanket was soaked through with sweat, leaving the fabric both clingy and cold on her skin despite the warmth of the room. She didn't remember dozing off, but somehow she had, warm and hazy and nearly unaware. She was not dozing now. Roan gritted her teeth, forcing herself not to scratch at the blistering wave of psoriasis which had spread across portions of her skin. She'd woken up having gouged a hole in her side which was now bleeding lightly, the irritated scaly flesh falling away beneath her fingers like sticky pie crust. Her fingers were covered in red.  
  
"Lawrence-" she called hoarsely. She squeezed her eyes shut "Lawrence!" There was no response. Was he somewhere else? Did this happen to him too? Did he die? She felt like her head was enveloped in a cold fire. Her hand fell once again to her side, curling tentatively against the skin. The scales peeled away at the slightest disturbance. Begged to be caught under her nails with each gentle pass. Were these like scabs? Could she just pull them off? There was momentary pain, but also a relief and an agonizing impulse to scratch more.  
  
She did so, kicking the blanket away and running her hand along her side, her arms, her chest, flaking away at the stuff. It it sloughed off in chunks, falling onto the medical bed and staining it. Yes. She continued to scratch, the sting of skin tearing away from skin growing less as the way was gradually slicked with blood. Eventually, there was no pain at all. Just relief.  
  


Her lips were dry and cracked. Her head a dull droning from the dehydration of sweating and bleeding so much. She was dirty. Cold. Covered in decay which needed to be scraped off.

She needed to find some water.

She needed a bath.

  
She sat up, bearing through the wooziness which followed and stumbling to her feet. Scraper. She also needed a scraper or a brush to get the rest of this off. Something. She was only somewhat conscious of making her way across the various tables and cabinets. Burner. Flasks. flasks. Pruning shears. She picked up the thick scissors, holding them experimentally against the infected skin. No. No that wouldn't work. She let them drop to her side, wandering from the room to search.  
  
Usually the place would be bustling with activity, but it was now empty. She walked through the rows of potted plants in the greenhouse, batting them away as their long tendrils seemed to reach for her. Showers. It was just straight ahead and then a right. She came into the maintenance room, filled with lockers and benches and big industrial machines for washing their clothes. The tile was cold beneath her feet. Unwelcome. She needed to warm up. Maybe that would help with her skin.  
  
The showers were through another door. They were simple, really just ribbed metal cylinders with a drain underneath for the water. Brushes. There were brushes here. She dropped the pruners in her hand and staggered into one of the stalls, cranking both of the handles until they risked twisting off. The water came on in a sputtering glacial burst. She flinched, hand immediately going to steady herself on one of the many ribs encircling the shower head above. What- Right, water, yes.  
  
The freezing spray slowly permeated her hair until she was drenched all the way down to her skin. Thick red rivulets streamed down her legs with urgency. A panicked mix of blood and water which turned bright pink against the floor. She swiped at her bloodied wounds, which miraculously did not hurt. Some places seemed to be softening with the water, growing heavy and engorged underneath the shower. Lukewarm water pooled into pockets of this loose skin, stretching it with liquid until the weight became too much and the large portions slopped to the ground alongside the water they'd been accumulating. They looked like bloated fist-sized pustules, but instead of bursting with pus they simply... fell off. Gathered around her feet until the buildup was so great that she had to kick the pile away from the drain lest it begin to back up. The material squished underneath her toes like soggy oatmeal and she ground it into the grating until it was forced down.  
  
She grasped the fine spindly handle of the brush hanging beneath the showerhead, all but tearing it from its hook and shoving the coarse bristles against her skin. The wet crust tangled in it like pulpy tissue paper, twining in the stubbly hairs as it was shredded off. No inch of sodden flesh was left untouched until her scrubbing was more like scraping wax from a canvas than peeling away long fatty strips like she had been.  
  


Finally. Finally she was getting rid of it.

  
She seemed to blink and was suddenly on the floor, leaning against the ribs, scrubbing every inch of flesh she could find. Scrubbing the healthy stuff which just would. not. come. off. until it was bright pink and cracking at the edges of what she had already torn away. The places which she had exposed. They were dark red. Smooth. Unnatural, but if they lay underneath the rest of her skin then she must expose the rest of it before the scales came back. Red. The color of deceit.  
  


Blackness.

**[Providence]**

"Roan"

She came to awareness with several false starts.  
Blinking in and out a few times until she could finally hold herself above the dark tide of sleep.

  
She was in a proper bed, laying on top of the blankets and wrapped in a towel. The doctor sat at her feet, mask removed and wearing only an unbuttoned shirt and pants instead of the menagerie of outerwear which usually accompanied him. Pink blossoms poured from his sleeves and long delicate branches poked their way up from his shoulders and cheek, terminating in more of the blooms. She made a vague noise of confusion.  
  


"You are awake." he affirmed "Your vitals are strong, but we were worried that you might have difficulty regaining consciousness."

  
She forced herself to sit up. Her entire body felt a little weak, like she had flu or had just come up from nearly drowning. She put a hand to her head "What the hell happened, Doc?" She jumped as something brushed her face. Her arm- she grabbed a fistful of fleshy golden material and _yanked_ "Ah _FUCK_!" The mushrooms crumbled wetly beneath her fist and her nerves lit with cold fire.  
  
Lawrence grabbed her wrist, pulling it away from the angry pulsing growths " _Do not_." he turned her arm over, observing the crushed powdery fungi hanging from her skin "We do not know if this will grow back." he clicked his tongue "Hopefully you have learned your lesson. Do not pull anything else." He let her arm go, and she brought it back where she could better see it. Her entire arm was covered in little shelf mushrooms and tiny green leaves and, on further observation, so was most of the rest of her body.  
  
She pulled aside the towel. There were mushrooms and curly vines sprouting all along her sides. They had been carefully draped in the fabric so that they wouldn't be crushed "Lawrence-" her voice was strained.  
  


"You are imperfect" he hushed "As are we all"

_What?_

"However," he added "The growths are coming in nicely. The full set should appear in another 24 to 48 hours."

  
"What do you mean? Growths? These things are gonna get worse?" she shot to her feet, turning to see where exactly the things were already taking root. Leaves poked out of her still-drenched briefs, though nothing seemed to be crushed. She could feel them on her back. Deadened patches which didn't feel the chill of the air. The tickle of vines draped over her skin "Lawrence, what did you _do?_ " She looked up at him, eyes brimming with accusation. He knew about this. Had to have known _something_. That's why he'd been acting so weird, hadn't it?  
  


He frowned, tilting his head slightly "You are unhappy."

  
"You fucking bet I'm unhappy!" she shouted, barely keeping her voice below a scream. Panic rose in her chest, exacerbated by rapidly quickening breaths. God, what was happening? She couldn't even wrap her head around the plants growing from her skin, but they made her irrationally angry. She wanted to lash out. Roan pressed the heels of her palms to her forehead. Even on her face. Even there she had sprouts dotting her cheeks. The arm where she'd ripped away the mushrooms throbbed, pounded with an exaggerated pulse. Yellowish liquid dripped down her forearm from the wound.  
  
"We... I apologize." he approached her cautiously and she thrust her hand squarely against his chest before he could come any closer "Don't coddle me" she spat "I'm not a fucking child. I just- _I'm angry with you_. And I'm not going to stop being angry for a long time" she glared up at him. God, how could he stand having all those branches growing off of him? They were right next to his eyes. Her eyes darted away of their own volition, cast towards the ground "I'm going to get dressed, and then we're going to talk about this" she snatched up the towel from where it'd fallen, wrapping it around her shoulders as she strode back to the lab.


End file.
